


Dirty Photography

by crackleviolet



Series: Violets are Blue [14]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, consensual voyeurism, slight cuckolding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 13:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11358204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackleviolet/pseuds/crackleviolet
Summary: Jumin likes to watch. V and MC are filthy enablers and apparently so am I.





	Dirty Photography

Jumin likes to watch. **  
**

To watch, though, is putting it simply. It is a taste as heavy, complicated and mysterious as any one of the books on his shelf. A taste that makes no sense even to him the longer he considers it. He does not usually, after all, find himself overly fascinated by the intricacies of the human body. The swell of other women’s breasts and the angle of other men’s jawlines leave him entirely disinterested and sometimes even repulsed.

That said, he cannot deny that there is something almost inherently sensual about watching his lover fuck his wife. From the wet sounds of flesh hitting flesh to the simple elegance of fingers interlocking against bed sheets; the hue of someone's hair when it catches the light; the whisper of a negligee against the carpet. Ivory with black finishings...black with ivory finishings. Sometimes he closes his eyes and forgets the colour entirely.

Jumin and Jihyun understand one another. They both understand how it is to watch and never be seen. Jumin, though, was never ignored in the same way that Jihyun was. Jumin wears his successes and his name like the perfect vertical stripes of a tiger; the perfect camouflage to blend in unquestionably with anyone who might ask.

When he disrobes and lies in the arms of his lovers he is exposed in every sense of the term. Each time their fingers move across his body, he overflows, lost in himself. He has never been accepted before; never trusted the compulsion to take off the mask. Even before he allowed Jihyun to understand the true nature of his feelings, there was a barrier of unspoken words between them and lies over masks.

In their arms, he is vulnerable in ways that sometimes he does not want to be; lost in a haze of feelings he is still learning to navigate. On the occasions he melts into their touches he fears he does not appreciate them for all that they are. It does not matter how often Nari trembles in his arms, legs shaking as he runs the tip of his cock over her clit. It does not matter how many times Jihyun smiles up at him from the bed and palms his erection through the fabric of his underwear. It is never enough to whet his appetite; he whose smile is as tentative as sheet ice across the depths of the ocean. Jumin, who does not know exactly how much passion lies dormant within himself, and would not previously have believed himself to be the sort of man to happily relinquish control.

The first time he saw them was an accident; a combination of bad timing and unusual boldness on his part. He is not the kind of man to barge into a room without warning and in all honesty, he cannot recall the reason he was so inspired to on this occasion. Perhaps it was the raw sounds of pleasure coming from the bedroom, Perhaps the fact that there was no one to greet him at the door as he loosened his tie.

Nari was on her hands and knees in the guest room and gasped into the coverlets, her hair splayed across the bed as Jihyun slipped a hand down to rub his fingers across her clit.

By that point, she was a babbling mess, erratically moving her hips against his fingers and his cock. Jihyun, by comparison, was almost smug; always better suited for intricate work. Of course neither of them were particularly smug when they realised they had an audience, however accidental.

"J-Jumin!" Nari peered up from the bed, red faced from the combination of her positioning and the wide open door. "You're home early!"

If he was wholly honest with himself, he was not surprised to find them there in such a fashion. He, Nari and V enthusiastically encouraged spending more time with one another, complete with bed sharing and, contrary to what many might have expected of him, he did not consider it a betrayal to find them entangled in one another. The arrangement was still new, though, with lines to be drawn as well as possibilities to be explored and for the briefest of moments all three questioned which of the two it was.

"I'm sorry," he said, deciding it was probably polite to let them finish before bothering them with the finer details of his day.

"I...no!!" Nari called from the bed, leaning her weight onto her elbows. "Come and join us if you like."

And he had wanted to. Oh, how he did. But they looked so perfectly immaculate there together, like a single shot of dirty photography immortalized in a moment of pleasure, that he could only hesitate.  To lie beside them would be to ignore the perfection. He was suddenly quite certain that he wanted to spend a lifetime taking in every change of light and angle of their bodies; every sigh and every shadow. He wanted to know and enjoy every inch of them without opening up himself.

And it was V who noticed first. V who knows him better than anyone.

"If you don't want to join in, how about you just watch? Assuming you don't mind, Nari?"

"I don't mind!"

That was the first time he took a seat in the chair beside the bed. The first time he poured himself a glass of wine and drank in the view of another man's hands upon his wife; another person's lips on his lover's cock. That time around, he was silent and as still as a statue, refusing to acknowledge his erection against the rhythm of the headboard hitting the wall.  He had heard Nari's cries of pleasure before; that moment her walls closed around him and left him crumbling over the edge. It was another thing entirely to see her face contorted by ecstasy, V soon behind.

On later occasions, he grew more confident, unbuckling his trousers and running his fingers along his cock in time with V's thrusts and Nari's tongue. Later, once the three of them shared a bed and his love for observation was not only better understood by everyone involved but embraced wholeheartedly, not only would they allow him to watch, but follow his instructions too.

Retrospectively, he should not have been surprised when Jihyun brought up the camera. It was a logical next step even for someone without Jihyun's love of capturing the moment. At first, however, he was reminded of the monochrome photographs his father had framed in the bathrooms at least one penthouse. Photographs angled in such a fashion that it was impossible to identify the subject, yet he always had the sneaking suspicion that he recognised them from somewhere.

He feels differently now, though. It's months after Jihyun suggested the camera and he has had plenty of time to consider it on his own; plenty of time to try and put into words the precise angling of their bodies when at the time his mind was all but blank. He has had time to realise that as much as he enjoys the sight of them unravel in one another, he is curious of how he looks spilling over the surface.

It is fortunate that they live with a photographer. Jihyun is able to arrange a tripod at the foot of the bed and rearrange the settings on one of his cameras to take a shot every thirty seconds, confident that that is plenty of opportunities for photographs, even if Jumin remains convinced that something will be missed. As Nari and Jihyun sit at the foot of the bed to pull faces for the camera, he glares at the tripod from his usual chair.

He will not forgive the camera if it misses the sheen of Jihyun's hair. If Nari's smile is not as perfect in image form as real life then he will be vocal about his disapproval. He has high standards in every aspect of his life and it comes as no surprise to anyone, least of all himself, that this is no exception to the rule. He went so far as to import black lace underwear for Nari from a boutique in Belgium, knowing that she will wear it only for a matter of minutes but wanting to capture the moment that she does so nonetheless. He wants to revisit every single moment she strode around the bedroom almost entirely nude and rearranging her hair. He wants to go back to every single moment Jihyun reached into the bedroom drawer for pipe tobacco and-off everyone's disapproving looks- filled it with bubbles instead.

Today he clasps his fingers around the wineglass as they lean into one another's kisses, drawing their mouths together though never quite making contact. He closes his eyes to the sound of the camera shutter and Jihyun's whispers that he approves of her lipstick, knowing he has felt that same breath through his hair and smeared that particular shade with his own lips.

When next he opens his eyes, Nari is running the fingers of both hands through Jihyun's bright hair; guiding his lips towards hers without any protest. It comes as no surprise to anyone in the room. Jihyun loves to be kissed, after all, and a mere kiss to the forehead will leave him bright pink. Jumin is sure that he knows the reason even if he does not presume to know for sure; he remembers the patted heads and polite greetings of Jihyun's youth: the long walk to the cemetery and cobwebs at the gate. As far as Jumin is concerned, watching him unravel like a rose at daybreak in the arms of a lover is far more satisfying than any wine to cross his lips.

Before he might have hesitated and lingered in the image of dewdrops and daybreak, but now he sets aside his wine and licks his lips instead.

"Undress him."

The first time they offered him the chance to instruct them, he refused. It did not matter how often one or the other expressed concerns afterwards that they wanted him to feel involved, he kept a distance right up until it was unbearable to do so. And, even then, his first commands have never been as one might expect. Once, he asked Jihyun to hold onto Nari's hand, wondering if his own looked that way on the occasions he made love to them both.

He is used to people following his commands, though he always expects them to tease him. They wear masks too, though it slips when they're naked. Once their clothes come off, they are tricksters, sphinxes, imps and worse, refusing him his moment of release if he does not answer a riddle. He's lost count of how many times he has cursed their wickedness, all while sighing into their touches. When he watches them, though, they never tease him. So far, they have agreed to his requests without the slightest hint that they mean to turn the situation into a game. Afterwards, they have never laughed at the idea that he might ask them to act out certain scenarios and instead laid their boundaries bare. He knows that they do so out of respect for him, but he still finds himself using the authoritarian voice of the boardroom to order them around.

Jihyun lies back across the bed this time, Nari shifting her weight to straddle his waist. Hands trace flesh, lips graze lips. She leans back and abandons Jihyun's shirt in a pose Jumin only hopes will be immortalized on film, even if he has resigned himself to disappointment.

He has hundreds upon hundreds of photographs of his wife; recordings of her voice and texts on his phone. At some point he knows that he has become greedy, though exactly when he is not sure. He once prided himself on the fact that there was nothing and no one he truly needed, yet here he is, hoarding every photograph and every inflection. She does not belong to him and cannot be captured through film or any other means and that is part of why he loves her.

“Is it my colour?”

“It suits you.”

Even as Jihyun smiles up at her from the pillows, laughing off the barb about wearing her lipstick, Jumin knows that that moment will not translate to film. Not one of her messages or her voicemails capture her, and even though he has asked her to pose for Jihyun’s camera-Jihyun who loves her finer details as he does- the resulting image is beautiful, though never quite a true likeness.

“You know a photograph is only a single snapshot,” Jihyun told him once, while he laid his head in his lap. “True beauty is the moments never captured.”

And Jumin finds he believes it as he watches them shed their clothes to the sound of the camera shutter, in fluid movements that he knows will not translate. When the night is over and the photographs in his hands, he wonders if he will be sentimental for the images left behind in the bedroom. For Nari’s flushed face and Jihyun’s heaving chest.

Nari’s hands are clever and as they smooth over Jihyun’s body, chasing his shallow breaths, Jumin finds his own reaching for his belt buckle. It is almost a relief to trail his fingers across the hardness of his cock in the same ghostly way that his lovers whisper to one another.

Nari’s hands are secure against Jihyun’s shoulders; she sits up higher with his hands interlocked with hers. Jumin glares at the camera and strokes one finger along his cock. He drinks in the angling of her back and Jihyun’s soft smile as he addresses her properly.

“You seem to be a natural at this, Mrs Han.”

“Don't let my husband hear you say that.”

He knows she says it to provoke him and ordinarily such talk leaves him melting into his own touch. Today, though, it does not have quite the same effect; he feels more of an exhibitionist than usual and is almost entirely certain the camera is to blame.

“Suck him,” he says, wine glass only inches from his lips, fingers tight around his cock.

He takes a sip to the sound of Nari’s lips against Jihyun’s cock; wet sounds that ripple through him, though do not move him quite so much as Jihyun’s gasps of pleasure.

Jihyun retains his composure to begin with. He always does, right up until the last. It's not until he has Nari by the hair and his eyes are squeezed shut that he allows anyone to see quite how close to undone he is.

He taps Nari on the shoulder, though, before she can throw him over the edge and the wine is bitter at the back of Jumin’s throat as she sits back up to full height, Jihyun reaching his hands for hers and locking fingers at the meeting of their hips.

When she lowers herself onto his cock, she does it so slowly that Jumin sets aside his wine and holds his breath, taking in the broken moans and the creaking of the bed. He doesn't remember when he started to squeeze his own cock, though all becomes clear when Jihyun gasps up from the pillows and Nari tentatively shifts her weight.

“You feel so good,” Jihyun sighs.

“So do you,” says Nari, rocking forward, still gentle.

Jumin cannot take his eyes off them and he is sure that he never wants to. He knows it is almost blasphemy to consider it and will never say so out loud, but he spent his childhood attending opera and ballet and somehow this is the finest, most graceful thing to have ever crossed his senses.

There is something about the way Nari tips her head as she moves; something about her exposed neck and Jihyun’s slightly parted lips. He believes it eloquent that they allow him to see them in a way they will never see themselves. Only Jihyun is facing the camera and most of his reactions are obscured by Nari’s back. The camera will catch only a fraction of them in the heat of the moment.

But even as he increases the tempo and pumps his dick at a speed that ordinarily would gratify him, he finds himself wanting more. Ordinarily he would drink in their gasps as their bodies collide, Nari grabbing hold of the bed frame to sink deeper.

“Jumin,” gasps Jihyun from the bed, “are you enjoying the show?”

Every time he watches them, they ask the same two questions. The wording varies, but the sentiment is always the same.

This time, it's Nari who speaks next, pink from the combination of sex and exertion.

“Would you like to join in?”

Jumin always gives the same answer when they invite him into the bed with them: refusal, point blank. When he watches, he has no intention of laying himself bare, but to admire his loved ones without emotions spilling over the surface.

Now, though, he isn't so sure. Now that the camera is there, dutifully capturing the moment, the dynamics have changed and as much as he finds himself captivated by his lovers, he is curious to know how he looks when he unravels. He wonders if he is as beautiful as they are when they set down their masks and unravel entirely.

He knows that it is impossible to capture raw emotion in a photograph; that no matter how true to life it actually is, it will never fully demonstrate exactly how naked he becomes in that room. He thinks that he prefers it that way, knowing that he cannot bleed out of a picture, though his hesitation alone gives them pause.

“Jumin?”

Nari crawls across the bed and reaches for him, assuming the worst and leaving him so warm inside that for a moment he wonders if he's swallowed pure sunlight.

“Jumin are you…”

He smiles, then.

“I'm alright,” he says, climbing out of the chair. “Move over.”

He says nothing of the fact that he wants to be seen, settling instead for something far more immediate. As Nari sits up onto her knees to unbuckle his belt and drops it to the ground, Jihyun all the while rummaging through the bedroom drawer to switch condoms, he buries his lips in the crook of her neck. She shivers into his touches, his hands seeking out her hips and reaching down for the slickness of her clit, which earns him a gasp in response.

“I want to be in the middle,” he says, breath warm against her neck.

“Oh?” She smiles. “You do, do you?”

And he does not admit that he is greedy. That there is no wish of theirs he will not satisfy, but when it comes to his own, he desires only them. He wants both of them in every angle, every light. He wants every inch and piece and part of them and in that respect is doomed to feel empty a good deal of the time.

He does not feel empty, though, as Jihyun’s lips trace his back and Nari shifts her weight so he is better able to bend over across the bed with the majority of his weight on his forearms. He is something else entirely as he kisses Nari to the forehead and between her breasts, Jihyun's hands gentle against his waist and at the clicking of the camera shutter, he is sure that where once his heart was a tangled mess of bright red threads, now it is the unfurling petals of a flower he has only ever permitted himself to glimpse on occasion.

He knows deep down that he probably ought to find such a position degrading and at some point, he is almost certain that he did. It's becoming increasingly clear to him, though, that he considered many things degrading for many of the same reasons he never allowed himself to be seen.

Nari's arms reach out to embrace him, hands seeking the softness of his hair. She whimpers at the unexpected sensation of his tongue against her wet folds and he glances up into her eyes, briefly concerned, though immediately reassured.  As she strokes his hair, Jihyun uncaps the lube and speaks softly in preparation.

“You remember how this goes, right Jumin? You remember the word?”

Jumin gives him a backwards glance, taking in the combination of their naked bodies and smell of sex that permeates the air.

The first time he and Jihyun made love to one another, they stared at the ceiling for many hours afterwards, both concerned for the reaction of the other. Jumin had expected it to feel wrong. Awkward, even. On some level, he supposed that it did, though not because he happened to be in the arms of another man as opposed to his wife. In the end, Jumin had laughed, recalling the night of Nari's first RFA party and how quickly he rushed to the bathroom to gather his thoughts the moment it was over. He was prepared for physicality, but allowing himself to be so close to another person that they could look into his eyes and speak to him of love in such a way that he believed it left him feeling as if his arms and legs had been taken off and screwed back on at all of the wrong angles.

And even now his heart still flutters as he gives Jihyun the nod before turning back to kiss Nari at her thighs. She shifts her weight across the bed, grip on his hair growing increasingly tight.

"Do you remember the word, Nari?" He says, smirking over the sound of her heavy breathing.

He's mostly joking, though the sight of her hooded eyes and trembling form leaves him tempted to play with her a little more.

"I can't hear you," he says, finger hovering around her clit.

"You...absolute..."

"Oh?"

Even Jihyun pauses from applying lube to his fingers, curious at what insult she has in mind.

"I hate you both," she says. "I remember the word. Now please-"

Jumin laughs, breath hot against her slit and slides a finger inside of her in the same way that he asked Jihyun to teach him.

"Don't worry, Nari," Jihyun says over the sound of her gasps. "You'll both be in the same boat soon."

Jihyun’s hands are gentle as they smear lube against his entrance; his voice soft as he teases in one finger and then two.

"I've got you," says Jihyun, and Jumin knows he will believe him even after the moment is over.

Jumin glides his fingers in and out of Nari to the rhythm of Jihyun's fingers, curling his finger in the come hither motion he has been practicing before leaning over to suck at her swollen clit, breath hot across her wet folds. Jihyun's fingers work faster than his can; leaving him hissing and gasping in pleasure.

At the third finger, Jihyun snakes a hand around Jumin's waist and takes hold of his cock, circling his fingers around the shaft.

"Oh...g....f...."

"F...what?"

"Jihyun, please-"

"Please what?"

Jihyun pumps his dick harder and Jumin is sure that he hears Nari laugh. For a moment he laments the fact that all of the lovers he might have picked, he chose to dance with a set of charlatans. Charlatan or no, however, Jihyun strokes lube over his cock so elegantly that Jumin can't find it in himself to be annoyed.

The first few thrusts are slow, leaving everyone gasping. However gentle Jihyun might be, the force of his body against Jumin's, combined with the moans of both men leave Nari overwhelmed. Her words become babbles and then whines, taking one long breath as if she never means to take another.  Both of her hands are tangled in Jumin's hair now; her eyes squeezed shut, rocking her clit against his face every time Jihyun's thrusts propel him forward.

In truth, Jumin is not sure he wants to let her come. He wants to hang onto this for a moment longer; the sensation of her nails against his scalp while Jihyun's hands grip his waist. Her sobs of pleasure as his tongue goes deeper; his own grunts of pleasure when Jihyun does the same. But it is only a matter of time before she falls deathly still, her walls clenching around Jumin's fingers with all of the tightness of a fist.

Jihyun is the next to come, turning Jumin over onto his back, all while Nari-still in the haze of an orgasm, though no longer breathless-sits up to suck at his cock as Jihyun takes every thrust.

"I'm going t-" Jumin whined, back arching off the bed and wordlessly begging them both never to stop.

In that place, that room, that evening, he cannot remember how it was not to know a lover's touch. He is naked in more ways than one; greedy in several more.

Jihyun's pace this time around is erratic; he picks it up with every thrust, knees buckling and frame crumpling as he grows closer to the edge.

"I'm...Jihyun...."

Jihyun's hips stutter and for a moment his pace slows as he moans out his release in one of the most beautiful sounds that Jumin has ever heard. The first time he heard it, he felt as if he were coming home.

Nari's lips are gentler on his cock than her fingers through his hair, which he is more than a little bit grateful for. She licks around the head and shaft, fingers pumping the same rhythm as Jihyun's-by now, gentler- thrusts. At first Jumin grabs the bed sheets, his body a mixture of electric and on fire. Later he reaches for Nari, moaning into the bobbing of her head as he takes in the sheen of sweat across Jihyun's body.

He comes with a sigh, a single shuddering breath as he lies in a fog of pleasure, overstimulated and suddenly aware of everything. The light of the room is suddenly too bright for his eyes and Jihyun's footsteps around the bedroom sound like a giant's might. The clearest sound of all, however, is that of the camera shutter and Jumin finds his gaze drawn towards it like a moth to a flame.

In this moment he is entirely incoherent. His hair is rumpled from sex and his lips covered in Nari’s lipstain. No one in their right mind would recognise him as the same Jumin Han who graced the front of magazines and online polls and that respect he is content. As Nari and Jihyun kiss at the foot of the bed, he smiles lopsidedly for the camera.

There is no dirty photography, after all, without a degree of exposure.


End file.
